Contractors
by Andrithir
Summary: In Hawke's world, they're called mercenaries and freelancers. Shepard prefers "Contractors".


**Foreword**

Hello everyone, and welcome to my second attempt at writing a Mass Effect and Dragon Age crossover story. I will be exercising a lot of artistic licenses here, as well as blending elements in from Witcher. However, I must point out that there will be no Witcher plot points, mainly just its variation of monsters and combat to give it that extra _panache_.

As for Hawke… think Ciri – because they're voiced by the same VA.

…

"_Every soldier has two families. Those you raise you, and those you raise hell with." _

…

The Commander watched the Illusive Man's body fall into the chasm of light and breathed out a ragged sigh. He slowly trudged back across the walkway, tired and haggard; and descended back to do Admiral David Anderson.

"Anderson?" Shepard called out weakly. "Anderson?"

The Admiral didn't respond. Adam staggered around the console and turned his head, wincing as his neck throbbed. His bloodshot eyes fell upon his mentor, still and quiet.

"Guess I'll see you soon," Shepard said softly.

He clutched his side, his blood flowing sluggishly over his burned gloves. Shepard sat down and leaned back against the console, his eyes gazing out across the expansive view. The Earth turned below him, a sapphire and emerald orb dotted with burning embers.

_Beautiful, _he thought.

Activating his Omni-tool, an orange display flickered into existence. Adam scrolled through his contacts and frowned at the lag. The cursor settled on Hannah Shepard, and he hit call.

"Adam?"

A small smile of relief appeared across his lips as he heard his mother's voice.

"Hey, mum," he whispered tiredly in that distinctively clipped accent.

"Sweetie? What is it?" Hannah asked worriedly.

"I -um- I don't think I'm gonna make it," Shepard said bluntly.

He could feel the cold gnawing at the back of his mind, a dull lethargy coursing through him.

"What're talking about?" Hannah's voice quickened.

"This is -uh- this is it."

"Don't say that, Adam!" Hannah snapped.

"It's... it's not that, mum. It's the end of the line."

"No!" Hannah cried.

"I'm sorry, mum. I wish there was another way."

"Adam, please."

"I love you, mum."

"I love you too sweetheart," Hannah said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Goodbye, mum."

"I'm going to make you Yorkshire pudding tomorrow."

"You don't know how."

"I'll learn. I'm going to make it, and then I'm coming to you, and then..."

"Mum," Adam interrupted. "I'm sorry… and thank you… for everything."

He leaned back, his world entering a haze as an emerald light washed over him.

…

The sun was warm, the wind was soft, and there was a hint of salt in the air. His hand twitched, his eyes slowly opened. Shepard's body ached, his muscles groaned in defiance, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

He was on a plateau that ran along the coast of sheer cliff drops. Broken ships from an era long gone lay upon the jagged rocks. But they were all overshadowed by the looming husks of starships. It was almost too easy to forget how large these spacefaring vessels were – even when shattered by the Reapers.

Was this Earth? He wondered. It had to be. Why wouldn't it be? There were rotten timber hulls and the broken masts with torn sails reminded him of history class, about the once great carracks that roamed the seas. But there was nothing else around, only burned out debris, no search and rescue vehicles.

_Maybe the attack failed?_

Adam wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

Wincing as he turned on his Omni-tool, the wrist devices winked orange and encased his hand in a gauntlet of light.

"This is Commander Adam Shepard, requesting immediate medevac."

His heart tightened in his chest as he anxiously listened to the silence.

Nothing.

He tried again.

"This is Commander Shepard, does anyone read me?"

Only static answered.

He kept the transponder on but set the Omni-tool to standby. Adam surveyed the fields of scattered starships that led all the way to the coastline and beyond. He doubted that there would be anything useful in those wreckages. Reaper fire always gutted a ship, and anything inside would be vaporised.

Still, there could be something, maybe an emergency survival kit or a vehicle of any kind. Maybe, just maybe, there might be some survivors.

…

He found a few SERE kits from crashed fighters. Most were melted and warped but some were intact. Prying open one of the canisters, relief filled his chest when he found extra Omni-gel, thermal clips, med packs, a few light weapons, and First Strike Rations (FSR).

He picked up the stim stick first, and jammed it into his thigh port. The pain dulled into a throb as the world became a bit clearer again.

Adam salivated as he saw the food packs. Grabbing one out of the kit, he quickly tore it open and unwrapped the sandwich's vacuum seal. Hungrily, he bit into the food bar. Having only survived on wild berries and leaves, the sparsely flavoured bar tasted like a full course meal. With the food in one hand, Shepard opened a medigel canister with the other.

The medigel felt like a cooling hand over his wound, its antiseptic properties would stop his flesh from turning necrotic.

…

It was a salarian ship – a stealth ship that had been cut in half. The escape pods were empty, and there was no hangar bay attached to the wreckage.

Adam searched the ship, but he found nothing. Shepard groaned in frustration as he clenched his fist. He was back to square one again. Well, almost.

The kitchen was stocked with food, and the armoury had a few light weapons left.

Looking out at one of the viewports, Shepard saw the tide had risen. He guessed he'd have maybe about three hours left before he'd be trapped. He needed to grab whatever he could before the tide swamped the ship.

Adam broke into a brisk walk as he headed towards the med bay. He loaded up an omni-gel canister and applied the sealant around the cabinets. There wasn't enough time to get everything, but he hoped that the tide wouldn't pull the corvette out to sea, so he could return later to get what he needed.

He then went over to the medical bench and flicked on the secondary power supply. Easing himself onto the bed, he began to run diagnostic scans. He had burns, contusions, internal haemorrhaging, and a number of fractured bones, as well as a myriad of bruises.

Gently, he pried his armour open, hissing in pain as his sides screamed for the support of the exoskeleton. He silently cursed his luck that the ship's medic was dead, and there was no VI to assist him, but he was no stranger to doctoring himself. Adam began by removing the dirty bandages from the days before, and then applied a fine layer of medi gel on his wounds before redressing them.

There was shrapnel lodged in his left side, fragments from his armour when the Reaper blast grazed him.

Using a magnifying glass stand, and a spare Omni-tool, Shepard managed to rig himself a camera that would act as his mirror for the impromptu surgery. He set his omni-tool to monitor his heart rate, and laid out the stitches, gauze and medigel, before slowly removing the dressing the stopped him from bleeding out.

As soon as the protective layer was removed, blood slowly began to dribble out of the raw wound.

Injecting the local anaesthetic into his flesh, Adam was mindful not to dangerously lower his heart rate or impede upon his nervous system. Given his current condition, he could only give himself enough to dull the worst of the pain.

"Okay," he breathed. "Here we go."

Easing his back fully onto the semi-reclined bed, Adam took another deep breath, and then looked at the camera feed. He kept his gaze unflinchingly on the wound as he slowly pushed the tweezers into his flesh. The sharp pain and the soft ping of scraping metal alerted him to the shrapnel.

Shepard winced as a burn radiated from the wound. He dug the tweezers deeper, grasping onto the fragment and slowly teased it out. Blood flowed sluggishly from the wound. Using his other hand, Adam held down his flesh as he pulled on the foreign object. Sweat poured down his face as he suppressed his chest from moving.

The pain burned up to his chest. The need to breathe burned as his vision narrowed. Adam's teeth gritted against each other.

The end of the fragment reached the surface of Shepard's flesh. He pulled it out, and let his head fall back onto the rest with a soft thud.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, pulling air into his chest.

Adam dropped the fragment onto the nearby table and went back to fishing for the others. They weren't as deep or as large as the first one.

Knowing that pulling out the fragments would potentially cause more damage, Shepard liberally applied medigel into and around the wound. Then he placed a bandage over it. Exhaling, he thanked minds behind medigel; it removed the need for stitches and antibiotics.

Giving himself another dose of painkillers, Adam felt the pain dull and pulled back on his burned and battered armour. His joint servos were underperforming, the environmental systems were fried, and the pistons were shot up, with the hydraulic fluids gone.

Shepard left the corvette with a survival kit, an M-8 Avenger, and a distress beacon. Making his way back up the hill, Adam took shelter in an alcove. He deployed the small sentry turrets he'd gotten from the armoury around the entrance into the alcove if anything moved towards him, it would be shot.

He then set up the heat lamp and laid out a tarp and sleeping bag. Satisfied that his little _home_ was going to be enough, for now, Shepard opened out a meal and heated it over the lamp. A few minutes later, he found himself tucking into the warm meal.

…

Days rolled by, and soon followed the scavengers. Large birds of prey swooped in low and then landed atop the bodies. Their sharp beaks tore into flesh, and they ate greedily. Adam stepped out of the alcove and took aim on the nearest avian. Exhaling, he then squeezed the trigger.

The Avenger kicked into his shoulders, slugging the bullet at hypervelocity. The bird was already dead by the time its friends heard the thunder crack that scattered them.

Capturing the dead bird, Shepard slung his prize over his shoulder and returned to the alcove. The heating lamp wasn't going to be enough to cook raw flesh, but thankfully there was enough wood lying around that he could make an open flame.

Shepard fashioned a makeshift grill out of the surrounding rocks and a metal cage. He got the fire going first, welcoming the warmth and the soft crackle of the timber before laying out the tarp and the bird on top.

Using a combat knife, Adam made the incision at the base of the rib cage, and ran the blade all the way down the centre, splitting the bird's stomach wide open. The smell of innards filled the air, forcing bile to form in the back of his throat.

He then removed the tough feathers, plucking them from the bird, before hacking off the head and feet, and dumping them in the same med kit box that contained the innards.

Satisfied the bird was sufficiently prepared, he started to cut chunks of flesh off, and place them on the grill. The soft sizzle of meat filled the alcove, followed by the delectable scent of poultry.

He kept a timer on his omni-tool; making sure to cook the meat completely.

Once the alarm chimed, Adam moved the poultry pieces off the grill and into another empty medkit box. From there, he pulled out a small bit of flesh, no larger than a fingernail, and placed it into a poison tester tube from the survival kit. He shook the tube and waited to see if the solution changed colour.

_Nothing_, the solution remained transparent.

Inhaling in the smell, Adam picked up a drumstick and bit into the crispy flesh. His mouth salivated at the instant hit of flavour, and he chewed thoughtfully. He moved the morsel around his mouth, seeing if it caused discomfort, but none came. The poultry was safe.

Opening up a bag of MREs, Shepard mixed the content into the medkit, letting the still hot chicken, warm up the mash potatoes. He pulled a tube of tabasco sauce out of the MRE bag and poured it liberally over his food.

As he ate, his thoughts turned back to home and to the people he loved.

…

Another day and more debris had crashed into the cove. As fate would have it, the asari wreckages contained half a dozen monomolecular swords and a poleaxe that seemed to be inspired by the krogan hammer.

Adam wasn't one for melee combat, he preferred to take things out with overwhelming firepower at ranges, but at least the hammer and the sword could double as tools. Hefting the hammer with both hands, it was lighter than he had imagined. The hammer was spiked, it had a pike at both ends of the shaft, and contralateral to the hammerhead was an axehead.

Fiddling around with the settings, the edge of the axe head, and the tip of the pike glowed orange. They were Omni-blades, super hot and superdense masses of silica, held together by mass effect fields. Whoever had wielded this weapon would've either intended it to be used as the last resort or was an extremely aggressive fighter.

The monomolecular blades were subtler weapons. Short, easy to wield, though not as effective as the hammer's crushing force, the blade was more than adequate to contend with most threats.

The turian wreckages had two useable portable power generators, water filters, and a hydra missile system. Shepard took the missile launcher and water filters but left the power generators where they were for now.

Moving down back down to the beach, Shepard saw the orange glint of deployed parachutes, leading him to find another crashed Kodiak – albeit without half a cockpit.

_Must've been hit by an oculus_, Adam concluded.

The breached canopy meant that anything inside would've been torched upon entering the atmosphere. Luckily, the engineers were smart enough to ensure that the passenger compartment was in its own protective cocoon. Unfortunately, the doors had been warped. They were jammed into the rails.

Warping his fingers around the grip of the hammer, Adam hefted the krogan melee weapon and braced his legs in the sand. His body torqued as he recoiled back and unleashed the coiled power of his muscles. The hammerhead slammed into the side windows, sending a spider web of cracks across its blackened surface.

Another half dozen strikes, and Shepard had broken his way through the final layer of glass, leaving the partially melted – and thus opaque – plexiglass backing left. With a low melting point, the omni-tool wouldn't have any trouble breaking through it.

He made a hole just big enough to see through and then shone a light inside, the light bounced off of angular surfaces that he couldn't quite make out. Adam made the hole in the plexiglass larger, his face contorted as the smell wafted into his nostrils. Once done, Shepard laid eyes on an AT-Hover Bike.

Adam gave a low whistle.

They were the advanced recon bike used by Alliance Special Forces. Shepard sent silent thanks to the engineers that designed the automatic parachutes as he clambered into the hold.

He made a quick check of the hoverbike; it was the stealth reconnaissance variant, outfitted with noise cancellation to reduce the audio footprint of the turbines. There was a load rack at the end, perfect for hauling salvage, and at the front were angular plates that covered most of the rider head on and would deflect forward fire. Situated on top of the centre plate, and just below the windshield was an LMG and a grenade launcher, both would be slewed to the helmet of the rider.

"Now, how the hell do I get you out?" Shepard muttered.

It took the better part of the day to scrounge up enough omni-gel to cut through the rest of the doors. Unbeknownst to most, there were properties inside the omni-gel that made it just as effective as a plasma cutter – though it was wasteful of the omni-gel's more productive capabilities, and the omni-tool didn't cut as precisely.

But in the end, the effort was worth it.

…

By the time the sun was dipping over the horizon, Shepard bought the bike back to the alcove, all loaded up with whatever salvage he could find, which amounted to a few more survival kits, the two power generators, omni-gel canisters, thermal clips, and small arms.

In the pouches on the hoverbike, there were two IXM-50 field laptops. Not the mainstay hover display ones that used mass effect fields to mimic mouse and keyboard, but the heavy-duty ones that came in a hardcase had a physical electrostatic capacitive keyboard and fold out displays that would merge seamlessly into one large display.

…

Adam heard the thump of a biotic jump, followed by the dreaded ear-splitting scream. It was a banshee. His heart skipped a beat, before the heat collected along his spine. He flexed his fingers and formed a tight fist as he exhaled. Shepard quickly kicked sand and dirt onto the fire, smothering the flame. He was in no condition to fight a banshee. One lone assault rifle wasn't enough. He needed a Typhoon or a Black Widow or something of equal or greater devastating power.

Entering commands into his Omni-tool, he deactivated the turrets. He then gently parted the tarp that covered the alcove, and slowly crawled out onto the outcrop. He stayed low between the rocks. Fishing out optics from his webbing, Shepard pulled the four-focal panoramic sights over his head and secured them in place.

He enhanced the magnification and homed in on the wavering air filled with unstable energy.

_Half a klick_, he guessed. The banshee was about half a kilometre away. A second later, he heard another biotic thump, followed by another ear-splitting scream.

Adam looked around, spotting three more banshees, and trailing in behind them were at least a dozen Brutes and a company's worth of Cannibals and Marauders. There was something different about them; an emerald glow that pulsed along their skin.

"Shit," he whispered to himself.

Turning his gaze skyward, he saw more orange streaks filling the sky. The Reapers must've come in on the debris.Adam's blood ran cold at the realisation.

If the Reapers got here by debris, that meant there was Reaper tech in the area. That was a good enough reason to get out. The war may be over, but there was no way in hell he'd chance it on being exposed to Reaper tech.

As Shepard readied his equipment to move, he felt a roar roll through the lands. It was deep and primal, booming like thunder from above.

He saw a dragon enter his sights, larger than any Reaper Harvester he'd seen.

"No way," he murmured.

From Shepard's hidden position, he recorded the battle that unfolded in front of him.

The Banshee screamed her battle cry, using biotic jumps to warp in and out of existence. Her screams coupled with the biotic thump made heat pool along Shepard's spine. He hated fighting those things.

Swooping in low and fast, the dragon opened its maw and unleashed a firestorm. The fields were set alight as if Greek fire was poured onto the plains. It was no ordinary flame; the grounds kept burning long after the blades of grass were stripped away.

Reaper foot soldiers were burnt to a crisp, their tech melting as their bodies turned to ash. But amongst the wreckage of starships, the Cannibals and Marauders returned fire. Shards of red pierced the sky, striking the dragon.

The flying beast roared and came back around for another attack. Its fiery tongue lashed out, cloaking everything in its path in flames.

Adam focused in on the dragon. The enlarged image appeared on his optics, showing the small bullet holes in the beast's wings.

Then the ominous drone of spooling guns filled his ears.

_Ravagers_.

The pitched whine rippled through the air, as cannon shells were hurled towards the dragon. The rounds impacted, burning away the thick scaly hide.

The dragon roared in pain, its flight warbled like an ancient bomber being downed by flak. The winged beast was hit with another salvo. The projectiles tearing through the wings and setting the flesh alight. The dragon dipped and came crashing down, smoking curling up from its unmoving body.

The screams of the Banshee and the growl of the Brutes echoed on in the distance. He couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to leave.

Packing up whatever he could, Shepard rolled up the sleeping bag and tossed it onto the back of the hoverbike. He grabbed the small sentry turrets and placed them into a bag which he had haphazardly tied onto the front armour skirts.

Adam mounted the saddle, and the display winked on. The charge capacitors were spooling up, and as soon as it hit full charge, the Commander thumbed the controls for the stealth module and disappeared from sight.

…

The shack was empty and fallen into a state of disrepair. The bed inside was nothing more than a pile rotten linen. There was nothing of value inside, but he wasn't alone. That was all that mattered.

…

Shepard followed the trail that began from the shack and headed inland. He kept an eye on his sensors as he traversed the country, wary of anything that could come into his path. As he reached a crossroad, he saw a sign that was marked in English as well as four different types of inscriptions that were absolutely foreign to him.

He picked the sign with the lowest numeric value – which he assumed was some kind of distance since there were no units denoting it – and followed it down the trail, that soon widened into a larger path.

By the time Shepard reached another side, night had already fallen, and in the sun's place was a bright full moon. The sign was covered in moss, the wood was cracked but the paint was still legible. _Moonlake Inn, 1/2L_.

"Half a league… just over two point seven klicks, hopefully."

…

Adam brought the bike to a halt, setting it down at the courtyard.

The Inn looked decrepit, its timbre walls were rotten and covered in moss, and the roof was partially caved in. Unease filled his stomach, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight. Adam walked forward slowly, careful of where his foot fell. The stable had collapsed, the front doors were ripped off its hinges, and the window shutters hung open.

"_Wolves asleep amidst the trees  
Bats all a-swaying in the breeze."_

The voice was feminine, soft, with an undertone of sensuality.

_But one soul lies anxious, wide awake  
Fearing no manner of Ghouls, Hags and Wraiths."_

Adam circled around the Inn and found himself standing in vegetable patch overrun with weed.

Beyond the garden was the shoreline of a lake, reflecting the moonlight. Then he saw her, a young woman. Her hair was tied up into a bun and wore fine robes in various shades of blue. She had an air of nobility around her.

"Hello there," she said sweetly.

Her hand reached up to her brown locks, undoing the bun and letting her hair cascade down to her shoulders. He saw her face, a face that would rival the most famous supermodels in the galaxy. A pert nose, high cheekbones, wide eyes, and sultry lips.

"You're not a warlock are you?" she asked.

"No," Adam said hesitantly.

Shepard could feel an unease creep into his stomach, heat pooled at the base of his neck.

_Fear_

"Of course not," she said knowingly.

The woman walked towards him, with a soft smile. Her hips shook ever so lightly, as she got closer, her smile turned into something more seductive.

Adam took a small step back, reading himself into a combat stance.

"Don't be afraid, my sweet."

Her delicate hands unclasped the coat on her shoulders, letting it fall to the grass. She then undid the buttons on her dress.

Shepard took another step back.

The woman laughed. Her angelic voice filled the air, as her face brightened with joy. Her dress fell to the ground, revealing her naked rosy porcelain skin and shapely body. Her hips swayed, her bare feet padding softly across the grass.

Adam's brows furrowed in confusion. A part of him stirred, wanting to take her right then and there, and that scared him.

"Don't be afraid," she said sultrily.

"Stop," Shepard growled.

His grip tightened on his rifle, heat pooling on the back of his neck.

The woman's face contorted into something sinister. Her teeth grew to fangs, her skin turned to grey, as claws grew from her hands and feet.

"Fuck," Adam hissed.

He raised his weapon, but it was too late. She rushed him with the speed of a vanguard.

It felt like a rocket had hit him, knocking him to the ground. Her slim deceptive form held immense strength, pinning him in the dirt. Adam gritted his teeth as he struggled to wrest free. Wrenching a hand out of her grasp, the N7 formed a biotic fist and punched her in the gut. The she-creature went flying sky high; higher than what should've been for a biotic attack.

Shepard got back on his feet and drew his sidearm. He dashed back onto the stone path. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Adam steadied his breathing and snatched up his rifle. He holstered the sidearm and shouldered his rifle. Steadily, he panned his surroundings, constantly checking his six.

Things had become quiet again, only the sound of water lapping the shores and the breeze rustling whispered to him.

"Where are you?" he muttered.

Adam Shepard was a veteran of countless battles. He had bested Krogan Warlords and Asari Commandos. He'd be damned if some feral naked woman got the better of him.

The winds howled again. Adam could feel his heart hammer in his chest as his vision narrowed. Adrenaline was coursing through him.

The wooden gate creaked. It swung ajar. Shepard quickly honed in on the target and squeezed the trigger. The Avenger hurled a torrent of metal, splintering the gate, and kicking up dirt.

He carefully sidestepped around the blades of grass and onto the footpath. With a memorised flick of his wrist, he activated his cloak and disappeared from sight.

The N7 kept his grip steady, panning the weapon. He affixed his optics, hoping to catch a trail of the creature.

"I can smell you, hunter," the woman growled. "You can't hide from me!"

Adam felt the weight of a truck slam into his back. His cloak collapsed as he fell face first into the dirt and lost his weapon.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

He felt her straddle his back, her wiry hands gripping his shoulder and neck. She had him pinned – almost.

"Enjoy this," Shepard growled.

Adam pounded his fists into the ground, his body flared with biotic energy. The she-creature was tossed off his back like a rag doll. Quickly, he got into a crouching position and drew his M-11 sidearm.

He heard her body hit the ground, like a statue falling upon the earth. Shepard lined up his sights, trained them on her body and fired two shots, before following up with another on the head. But he drew no blood. The bullets hammered and spark against her skin, but left it unmarred.

"You can't hurt me," she laughed. "You're not even a warlock."

The woman sprung to the left like a feral animal on all fours and then charged Adam.

The N7 blinked back, using his biotics to retreat. He stormed through the overgrown gardens, vaulting over a wooden cart, and turned around to face her. But she was already gone. He activated his tech armour, encasing his body in deep amber.

"Shit."

Activating the omni-tool on his left arm, Shepard held it in front of him and unleashed a stream of flame. The fires burned through the grass, sending smoke high into the night sky.

She had him on the retreat, and he hated that.

Her laugh rolled through the air, like a Countess toying with her latest conquest.

Adam tried a different approach. He pulled away from the garden further and deployed two drones. The orange orb went out on the hunt, advancing into burning gardens, whilst the defensive drone remained with him.

He kept an eye on his HUD, watching for any movement his sensor might pick up.

The offensive drone flashed green on his display. It was engaging. Then it winked red.

"Dammit," Shepard snarled.

The motion sensors flashed an alert. Something was moving towards him, fast. He saw the cart burst from the flames. With barely any time to react, Shepard crouched and activated his omni-shield. He slammed it into the dirt, pinning the shield into the ground as a brace.

The wooden cart shattered against the shield, followed by something invisible.

He heard the woman screech and roar right in front of him. Adam activated the overload, sending electric currents through the woman. Her form lit up with sparks before his eyes, her body convulsed, unable to move.

The N7 collapsed the shield and blasted her with a stream of cryogenics. Water condensed and froze to her form, nullifying her invisibility. Bringing up his right leg, Adam kicked off her, pushing him back. He followed up with a warp attack and a biotic throw.

The mass effect fields crashed and exploded, tearing out the grass and kicking up dirt around where the woman once stood.

Adam blanketed the grounds in front of him with another cryogenic blast. The ice coated the she-creatures form, lying on the ground and inert. The N7 rushed forward. His omni-blade winking to life, he struck forward, only for the blade to stop against her skin.

"The fuck?"

The woman countered; she clawed his chest, tearing off ceramic chunks, before crouching low and sweeping out his legs. Adam fell in a heap; she grabbed him by his left leg and tossed him into the trees as if he was nothing more than a doll.

A tree trunk rushed to greet him. The tech armour and shields overloaded. His back exploded with pain, his side burned like fire. Shepard gritted his teeth, trying to regain his breath. He fished for a stim shot in his belt and pulled out the syringe.

But before he could ram the syringe into his neck, the woman closed the distance. She pulled the syringe out of his hands and crushed it in hers. She rolled Adam onto his back, leaning against the tree trunk. Her hands were soft, yet firm. Her claws were gone, returned back to normal nails, and her skin regained that rosy colour.

"That was fun," she smirked.

Adam's lips curled into a snarl.

Her face was right in front of his. Her hair brushed his skin, and her scent was so intoxicating. She ran her elegant fingers along his jaw.

"Such a fine specimen," she whispered.

Her teeth flashed in the moonlight, turning to fangs.

"You're tired; I can smell your blood from a mile away."

Shepard winced.

"What the hell are you?" he growled.

The woman didn't answer.

She pressed her lips against Adam's, sending chills down his spine, and flooding his body with an endorphin rush. Shepard was on a euphoric high. He took it all in, her scent, her taste, his body cried for more. But his mind, his mind raged in protest.

Slowly, Adam came too. His heart was pounding. Her taste still lingered on his tongue, and her intoxicating scent still threatened to overwhelm him.

She grabbed his head and wrenched it to the side, exposing his neck. Adam tried to push her off. But he was too weak and she was too strong. His mind, far too clouded.

Then he heard the glass shatter, a black cloud engulfed him. Without hesitation, without forethought, Shepard mustered all the strength he could and slashed forward with his omni-blade. He felt the superdense silicon carbide slice through flesh. The woman screamed and blood curling cry.

Adam dragged in a deep breath, only for his lungs to burn. He coughed and hacked, spewing out blood. The cloud disappeared; he could see the woman retreating, stumbling back.

An arrow flew out from the corner of his sights, striking the woman dead centre. But she was still moving, scrambling with frantic speed. Another arrow whistled by and pierced her leg. She cried out in anguish, thrashing in the dirt, clawing herself to safety.

Then a stream of emerald light, shaped like a humanoid surged forward. A woman, covered in leather and mail armour winked into existence, a longsword raised above her head. The blade came down and plunged into the back of the she-creature.

…

The contract was simple, kill the vampire. Villagers were going missing, and the situation was desperate enough to put a flyer in the town of Kirkwall. She wondered how many villagers it took to find out that they were dealing with a vampire.

Finding the vampire was easy enough, all Marian Hawke had to do was to find an abandoned inn or village that was close to other villages. The next part was determining what kind of vampire she was up against. Since most of the villagers missing were male, she assumed it would have to be a bruxa.

The bruxa is fast, agile, and resilient to conventional weapons – even those enhanced with runes, but a tonic of black blood mixed with any blood and a vaporising agent would be more than enough to weaken the bruxa to be killed with regular weapons.

As Hawke rode through the forest, she came across the first bodies of a merchant caravan, carrying silk and spices. The merchant's body was pale and cold but killed not too long ago; otherwise, the wolves would've gotten to him. His company of a half dozen mercenary guards lay dead in the mud, their armour torn and warped.

She dismounted her horse and searched for anything of value. The swords would fetch a decent price from the vendors, and the coin purses were enough to feed her and her family a feast for a year or two – provided Gamlen didn't steal some to go spend it on whores and drink.

Returning back to her mount, Marian continued on further, passing a sign that pointed her towards an inn. She rode for another mile or so, towards the rising smoke, until she reached the abandoned longhouse.

"What's this?" she murmured.

Her eyes fell upon a strange object, about the size of a horse if not bigger. It was shaped like a horse saddle, with a large triangle at the front. It had a curved sheet of glass at the top of the triangle, and bags and strange boxes dangling from all over it.

Even more surprising was that this object was _floating_ in the air, but before she could inspect it further, she heard an explosion fill her ears. Her mount bucked in fear.

"Woah, calm girl, calm now," she hushed.

She dismounted her horse, tied her to the fence, and then drew her sword. Hawke broke into a light run, circling around the inn and into the back gardens that were set alight.

Marian moved around the garden, her senses picking up the smell of fresh blood. She turned to face the woods beyond the frost covered grass. And there it was the vampire. A bruxa, naked and consuming her next prey.

Hawke unlatched the glass phial containing her special concoction and hurled it at the vampire. The glass bottle exploded the solution within turning into a black cloud that blanketed the bruxa in a shroud.

Marian planted her sword into the ground and unslung her bow. She notched an arrow and lined up her target. A flash of orange pierced through the cloud, and the vampire screamed. The bruxa staggered out of the fog, clutching her stomach. Black blood oozed from her mouth, her veins turning to onyx.

As the dark cloud disappeared, Marian let loose an arrow. The projectile ran true and pierced her dead centre. Crying out in anguish, the bruxa turned to make her escape. Hawke readied another arrow and released the drawstring. The vampire fell to the ground with another arrow in her leg. She thrashed in the dirt under the pale moonlight, trying to claw to safety.

Hawke picked up her sword and surged forward, skimming ever so close into the spirit world to close the distance between her and her prey. As soon as Marian stood right on top of the vampire, she brought down her long sword, plunging it straight through the heart.

Quickly, the bruxa's body shrivelled and withered away, leaving nothing behind but a blackened skeleton.

She then turned her attention towards the bruxa's prey. It was a man, about her age. He wore articulated plate armour, coated in black and grey paint. She quickly rushed over to his side; he was coughing a lot of blood, convulsing as much as his pained body would allow.

_Dammit, Hawke_, she cursed herself.

Black blood was poisonous to just about every living thing, and a human was no exception to its toxicity. It was a miracle the man had lasted this long.

"Here, drink this," she said, offering him a vial of healing potion.

The man's blue eyes focused on her warily.

"I'm not a vampire, just drink or you'll die."

The man relented and parted his lips. She gently poured the contents of the bottle into his mouth and watched him swallow it, waiting.

His coughing fit stopped and soon exhaled in relief.

"That thing was a vampire?" he asked, his breath ragged and worn.

He had a clipped accent much like hers, though he was not as pronounced. It was closer to Varric's accent than hers. He was probably a noble – most officers are. The collar on his tunic was a standing collar, and it had two bars of gold on each side.

"Yes, a bruxa."

"You made it look easy," he winced.

"It is if you have the right tools."

"Was that cloud one of them?"

"Yes, and sorry," Hawke apologised. "I didn't know you were still alive."

"Why didn't you use a gun?" he asked.

"What's a gun?"

The man's face blanched in confusion.

"You don't know what a gun is?" he asked.

Hawke shook her head.

The man looked at the sword on her back, and then at her banded chain mail and leather armour. Most men and some women looked at her with a lustful gaze, but this man, he looked at her with tired calculating eyes that she had only seen in the most experienced generals and commanders.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You're at Moonlake Inn," Marian answered. "Or what's left of it."

"Which is in?"

"Planasene Forest," Hawke said slowly. Close to Marsh Hill Keep."

The man looked at her in confusion.

"What planet am I on?" he asked.

"What's a planet?"

"Oh," he whispered as if a great revelation dawned on him.

Marian tilted her head slightly.

"What year is it?"

"Nine thirty-one."

The man looked down, his brows furrowed in deep thought. The purple bruises on his face had melted away, revealing his strong rugged features.

"You look better," Marian said, breaking him from his reverie. "I'm Marian Hawke."

"Adam Shepard," the man said.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It's a healing elixir," Hawke said as a matter of fact.

Helping him up to his feet, Marian then returned to the bruxa's body to bag the head as evidence of her kill.

"A healing elixir?" he asked, confused.

"Drink it, it heals you," Hawke explained.

Shepard's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like in a computer game?" he asked.

"What's a computer?"

Adam frowned again.

"Shepard are you alright?" she asked.

The man nodded.

"I think I'm lost."

"Bruxa's do that. Where are you from?"

"Earth," he said.

"I've never heard of it," Hawke said, shaking her head.

"I don't think many here would have."

Adam walked around the area, collecting strange objects and attaching them back onto his armour. They were a lot like the strange boxes she saw on the hovering object.

He turned around to face Hawke again.

"Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," Hawke smiled. "It's nice to be thanked."

Adam looked around the area once more, then turned his gaze skyward.

"You're more than welcome to come with me," Hawke offered. "I have a knack for picking up strays."

Shepard gave a soft guff of laughter.

"Just like that? No strings? Me come with you?"

"No strings. You're the first to protest as much though."

…

**Afterword: I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you liked and didn't like. **


End file.
